Somewhere
by Kassel Garibay
Summary: Hazel's POV. August left her his books and his scent, what will she leave?


I closed the book and held it to my chest. Augustus never told me but he was the kind of people that underlined their favorite lines in books, made notes and treated novels as if they were textbooks and they had to take notes so they wouldn't forget the day of the exam. I usually hated it when people did that, it made the book look dirty and somehow it made me think that they didn't know how to take care of them. But this time I didn't mind. Because it was Augustus' handwriting, because I could see what it was to read the book through Augustus eyes, I saw his thoughts, those beautiful thoughts he couldn't fathom into constellations scribbled all over the book I loved.

I opened it again in the last page, and smiled at his notes. "_What?! No! It can't end like this!"_ he had written, just the reaction I had had when I first read it. But Augustus had understood, he really had. He had understood why the book ended so suddenly: Death doesn't wait for anyone, and maybe we would want a few years more to have a happy life, or a few months to visit the world, or a few days to finish your projects, or just a few hours to say goodbye to our loved ones. But life isn't a wish granting factory and when it is time it is time and that's it. You are gone. Augustus is gone.

But if Augustus' life had been a book it wouldn't have ended in an incomplete phrase. He died in his sleep surrounded by his loved ones. He had already said his goodbyes, he had even assisted to his own funeral, Augustus didn't leave any unfinished business behind.

I never asked if he felt pain while he died, because I didn't want to know. I wanted to imagine he had died a peaceful death, dreaming. Late at night when I allowed myself to be selfish I liked to imagine he had dreamed of me before he died. That he had imagined my kisses, or my voice, or my touch and smiled. That the nurses and his parents had wondered what was going through his mind but he was not there anymore, but in the invisible and tenuous third space that was only for us. Where we didn't have to worry about cancer, or oxygen tanks or anything. Because we were the only ones in there. Just the two of us, comforting each other.

I sighed and I let myself fall down into the pillows, still holding the book against my chest. Augustus died a year ago, yet I still miss him as much as the first day, or maybe even more. Maybe I miss him more today than on that fatidic night when his mother called me and I knew. I knew even without picking up that he was gone. A few weeks ago his parents had called me again, they were moving. They needed a fresh start. They had packed many of Augustus' things they wanted to keep, and had called me in case I wanted something they hadn't packed. I had returned home with most of his books and videogames. I had also picked a few of his shirts, which still smelled like him. I had slept with them every night until they started to smell like me and I couldn't hold back tears. Why was he fading away while I remained?

It was so unfair. I always knew I was going to die. My lungs sucked at being lungs, and probably one day my oxygen tank would suck to be one too and I'd die, leaving tons of issues behind. But still, I knew it was going to happen, my parents knew it, Isaac knew it. Augustus knew it. But none of us knew Augustus was going to die. We thought he'd live, and be happy and grow up to be the handsome adult we all knew he'd be. But instead he had lit like a Christmas tree. He didn't even get to see a Christmas tree again.

But also late nights like that were the ones where I poured out my heart sobbing, holding onto his book, or his shirt, or his videogames. And I knew that if he had lived he would have gone through this. He would have spent the sleepless nights wondering if I had died thinking of him. He would have burst into tears each time he saw a glass of champagne, or each time someone said the word "Okay" which happened too often. Being the survivor sucked. And those were the nights in which I was glad I was alive and Augustus was dead so he wouldn't feel this pain. He'd be waiting for me in Somewhere with a capital S.

I glanced to the clock on my night table and saw that it was a ridiculously early hour in the morning, but I didn't care. Lately I didn't care about many things. And I tried to pretend in front of my parents but they knew. They knew that what had happened between me and Augustus had been more than just puppy love and an adventure in Amsterdam. We were more than that, we were everything and he had taken it with him, leaving me with nothing but a few memories and a bunch of t-shirts that still smelled like him.

After some time I stopped going to the Literal Heart of Jesus and Isaac stopped going too. My life turned into a predictable routine: I assisted to class, barely ate, visited Isaac, barely ate again just to vomit it shortly after and then tossing and turning in my bed holding to his stuff trying to control my sobbing not to wake my parents. But they had gotten used to it.

The minutes in the clock moved softly, almost annoyingly, as if they did it in slow motion just to bother me. Just to prolong my pain. I remembered all those cheesy lines of "each second hurt" but I finally understood what it meant, I finally experienced what it felt like when every heartbeat was a new wave of pain. After a few minutes the pain increased and I understood it was not heartache, it was not emotional pain but water in my lungs. It was not heartbreak, but cancer.

I thought about waking my parents who'd take me to the hospital and get me into a white room while my lungs filled a bag with a dark liquid. I coughed and decided I wouldn't tell anyone, not yet. Somewhere inside me I was glad I wasn't going to make it, that I was going to join Augustus. But i wanted to leave like he did, without leaving unfinished issues behind. And even when I couldn't organize a funeral like he had done, I had read his eulogy. And that was enough. I stood up and untangled myself from all tubes walking to get my notebook and my pen. Since he died I've been writing poetry, mostly for him but there is no way I could show him, yet sometimes I read aloud in front of his grave before sobbing over it. But I wasn't planning on writing poetry that night, while I walked back to bed I scribbled "Dear Mom, Dad and Isaac…"

My lungs had already started to fail, and the exercise of walking to the desk and back was too much I took the last step and reached out to grab my

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**Author Note: The first time I read The Fault in Our Stars I was sure it would end up something like this, with an unfinished phrase said by Hazel before she died, it never crossed my mind that Augustus would die. Forgive me for the feels, I cried while writing it too. Thanks for reading!**


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